How I Came to Own a Fox
by Pollux Unbound
Summary: Mitsui gets to dedicate a song he composed to Rukawa, who is suddenly…angered by the song? MitRu songfic. Oneshot Shounenai. Dedicated to all MitRuMit lovers!


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Slam Dunk and its characters; Takehiko Inoue does. The song featured in this fic is not written by me; it's originally by Millencolin. The lyrics were altered a bit. But I do own Gave Drohl, Curt Kobain, Castora Stridara, and another character. Their names are ripoff, though, hahahaha.

...

Prom. Who the fuck invented this event? Last time I checked, school was supposed to be an institution whose sole purpose of existence consisted in the fact that it taught kids to be moral and behaved and all that jazz, which, strictly speaking, was plain bullshit to any sensible teenager. But, nowadays, teenagers were less the sort who were sensible and more the type who were retarded altogether. Going back, why would an institution, such as a school for that matter, promote activities which will invariably compel students to display romantic, if not exactly sexual, overtures?

As expected, girls were highly thrilled by the upcoming, ever-awaited Prom night. I quite understood why they treated the event with so much anticipation, if not for the in-your-face truth that I never really could understand women and other such similar creatures.

And I? I wasn't in the least affected by its approach. Well, not until I was summoned to the student's council office one day.

'Mitsui-san, your attendance is expected. As you see, you're a candidate for Homecoming King.' The dorky, rabbit-toothed prime educator of Shohoku informed me, of all people.

'And what, if I may ask, is this Homecoming King? Do I get to win a Rolls Royce?' I asked lazily. Honestly, it was bad enough that everyone received an invitation to that event, but to require my attendance was absurdly way beyond asking too much.

'Listen here; according to your class-standing records, you are about to fail four subjects; Physics, Algebra, Trigonometry, and Language. With that, you can still cling to the basketball club. However, if you missed the Prom night, your home economics professor would rest-assuredly flank you. That has been agreed upon by the association. In that case, that totals five subjects; enough to disengage you from whatever athletic programs you are participating in.' She finished with a triumphant grin, making me certain about the fishy glint in her eyes.

'What? That has to be the worst and most unfair agreement I've ever known. What's Home Economics got to do with it? You guys sent us invitations—d'you even know what that means? It means I can decline or accept; whichever I prefer.' I retorted angrily, fully aware of the knavery that she was exercising on me. Why, in its plainest sense, these people were coming on to me like harassment against a decent, non-suspecting individual such as I.

'My dear, you don't even know your subjects. It concerns social behavior to build up one's conduct, the very purpose of the upcoming special event.' She said with an air of annoying authority, as if she so regretted my lack of knowledge about the subject.

'I don't care. I will pass any other subject, but I am not joining this Prom king stuff you're thrusting in me. Darn, I wasn't even planning on going at all! It's stupid. Really, has anyone ever told you that?' I intended that to be the final blow. With that, I grinned with the garish, extravagant smile I was known for. Amazingly and to my surprise, she remained quite composed.

'Listen here; based on your behavior, you badly need attitude adjustment. You ought to set a better example for the lower years. I am requesting you to come. The students voted you, hence they will be very disappointed to hear that you're not in the least interested. And besides, your teammate, Rukawa Kaede, has consented to come too. You will never regret to take the opportunity, for events like this are a once in a lifetime experience and there may never be another night of this sort to come. Please…' She said so calmly that I was almost embarrassed with my disposition.

But what was this? Whatever desperate words she further said sank in to me like mists to be so easily forgotten. All I knew was that I heard _his _name. If I heard everything correctly, he decided to come too...

'Okay. I'll be there. Don't say anything more. I don't wanna hear it, so no need to thank me. Bye.' I finally managed to say dismissively and left without waiting for a reply. But she said,

'You will need to find a date for the night, okay?'

Whatever.

Just as I was making my way to the classroom, Gave Drohl, the Shohoku band club's drummer and president, called out,

'Mitsui-san, I am inviting you to sing for the upcoming Prom. I know it sounds absurd, but I heard you were candidate for Prom King and, besides, you already have an experience. Perhaps you're interested?' He asked sheepishly.

'Can someone tell me why I am so in demand these days? I wouldn't be surprised if Akagi came to hand me the captain—wait, what the hell happened to Curt Kobain?' I just had to ask about the vocalist, not out of concern but of curiosity on why they resorted to solicit my talents instead.

'Nothing, really. We have to play twelve songs, which is equivalent to a whole concert; quite enough to burn the fats out of us, so we will have to change members every four tracks. As such, we just thought you'd be in.' He finished with a pleasant grin. That wasn't the bribe that moved me, because he didn't even bribe me at all; it was just a not so random request. Even so,

'Alright, I will be singing one song only, and that's 'Fox' by _me_; if you don't agree with that, well, sorry. I'll give you the chords tomorrow if you want them. ' I offered.

To clear things up, allow me to say I wasn't regarding myself as a very valuable asset to any group I chose to plunk myself in. In fact, it was as simple as having full possession of the things I did and performing my talents to the utmost.

'ALRIGHT!' Thanks, Mitsui-san.'

Fox. It was a song I wrote eras ago. I composed its melody and accompaniment with the aid of what little knowledge in music I had at my dispensation. Be informed that before I re-entered basketball club, I played for the band club. I was not an exceptional guitarist, which, as I chose to think, was due to limited time and insufficient interest. Basketball was, after all, my one true love. However, disinterested though I was with music, I still managed to learn most of the techniques from the people I associated myself with.

In other matters, I was hoping I'd impress _him _if he found out I could really sing.

...

I arranged for the dorkiest girl in school to come with me to the Prom. God, even her name was horrible. Castora Stridara. If you'd care to scrutinize her sorry appearance, well, let me say she had two large front teeth, a freckly face, and fish-like eyes to top it all. Thus said, I wasn't seeking for attention nor was I making fun of her. I was just completely aware that she wasn't in any degree interested in me. As a result of this bizarre choice, I was blasted with irrationally ominous responses from my fangirls and fanboys. I didn't care, only because what I was really anxious about was _his _opinion of Hisashi Mitsui.

Came the dreadful night; a four-hour revelry whose whole purpose mainly was to entice the attendants to flirt all night long. The only good side of this event was the fact that everyone was looking gorgeous; Miyagi looked very haughty indeed for having Ayako, who was stunning that evening, as his date. Sakuragi didn't have a date, although I was sure he asked Haruko, who unfortunately caught a fever the night before, leaving her no excuse to attend.

Heads turned to our direction as my partner for the night and I made our way to the stage. At the same moment, the candidates for Prom king were summoned. On the platform, I satisfy myself with the thought that she was the perfect date for me, in spite of everyone else's very unflattering opinion. To testify against my blunder, Hotta, my best friend offered to dress as a girl to be my date for the sake of not having Castora. As for the other cheeky people, Miyagi, Sakuragi, and his Guntai, they almost fell off their chair when they saw us enter. Akagi and Kogure, on the other hand, quickly looked away, as if that prevented me from catching the nasty comments they were throwing at me.

But to tackle more important matters, or the most important matter, my world almost fell apart when I laid eyes on Rukawa. He was with that pretty third year student. She had for so long been rumored to be Rukawa's girlfriend for the reason that she was bold enough to follow Rukawa wherever he went, except in the washroom. I made sure I was the only one who could do that. In any case, I stared at her with an unflattering disbelief. But apart from it all, who would have such a slut for a girlfriend? She sure was voluptuous and hot and, in all manner of observation, was most likely very good in bed. But was that all that was worth competing for?

Rukawa, the boy of my dreams…

… with the best-looking girl in school…

…Hisashi Mitsui, the best-looking guy in school…

…with the dorkiest girl ever to walk the earth…

…Hisashi Mitsui… I heard someone say...

…Hisashi Mitsui… it was like a faint whisper...

…Hisashi Mtsui…was so far away...

'MITCHAN!' I was shaken off my insecure musings when Hotta called out my name, his volume overpowering the flood of inarticulate murmurs from the crowd.

'Huh?' I asked and looked around stupidly. I didn't know that the emcee had been calling my name earlier to introduce the band. Jesus, no one had to be impatient, especially toward someone who was immersing himself in a very pensive and important thought.

Apparently, we were supposed to play already.

Rukawa had just been crowned Prom King and, naturally, miss slutty pedophiliac bitch was hailed as the Queen of the Night. In harmony with my sentiments, cries of disgust from Rukawa's fangirls were audible from all directions. The Ice King, for his part, just stood there as though nothing out of his usual course had just taken place.

'Is something wrong?' Gave Drohl asked, placing a hand on my shoulder, 'You're not bitter about losing the King title, are you?'

'No, of course not!' I answered indignantly.

'Okay, let's kick it.'

'Sure' I made my way to the microphone, as a wordless announcement that they should give the floor to me already, else-wise they were to be deprived of indulging in my vocal prowess. Well, whatever. There was no turning back. There was nothing to lose anyway. Luckily, I never told anyone I wrote the song for _him_.

Here goes nothing, I thought.

_I met a fox the other day_

_When I asked how much he cost, I had to pay_

_All of a sudden I brought him home._

_He's 100 kilos dressed in silverchrome._

_He's my world, he's so rad._

_He's the best ride I ever had._

_He's my life, he's so bad._

_He's the best ride I ever had._

_When I imagine me and him,_

_You know that I get a stand-up fur._

_I give him oil, I give him gas,_

_And get him seat beneath my ass._

_Then the turtledoves drive away._

_He's secondhand so what? He's true he's by my side._

_For all I care he's hot, he's a real good ride._

_When we go out people stop and stare with jealous minds._

_It's Ok for me as long as they let him be…_

_To prevent something like a theft I got him locked up a tree._

The crowd was drowned by loud cheers, which didn't help me lift my spirit. People started to ask for more, only to have me ignore them and disappear among the spectators.

I prepared to leave the ball room, with a resoluteness of a meditated murder. But upon reaching the exit, I was greeted by two cold blue eyes.

'Oh, it's you. Have a pleasant evening with Miss Unpleasant.' I said sarcastically and moved on. Interestingly enough, he spoke,

'Fuck you, sempai.'

'Oh, sorry 'bout that; I kinda forgot her name's Slutty.'

'…'

I waited for him to defend his girlfriend, for anything at all that could prolong this encounter which was somehow delectable to me on its own right. Nothing came. So I walked away, thinking that everything was clear. But then…

'I'm 81 kilos, do'aho.'

I turned around, only to see that he had come a few steps towards me. We were standing face to face now. I could feel his breath, and read the recognition with which he regarded the not-so subtle lyrics of my song. If such was indeed the case, if he so easily took the song as my desperate call for him, it should follow that everyone else with a higher level of comprehension skills must have discovered the true nature of my work. Well, fuck that anyway.

But before I knew what I was doing, I held his hand which didn't let go.

That was how I came to own a fox. I never did lock him around a tree, though. And he never wore silverchrome. He also made it clear that he was not secondhand.

A/N: Sure was quite a simple fic, and I hope you liked it. The lyrics of the song were altered; I changed the 'she' to 'he' so that it would be applicable. This fic is rushed and there may be grammatical and spelling errors, so sorry for that.

Gave Drohl and Curt Kobain were derived from Dave Grohl and Kurt Cobain respectively of Nirvana, one my favorite bands. Millencolin is also one of my favorites.


End file.
